Хорошие жёны / Good wives. Уровень 3

Jo looked up and down, then said slowly, with sudden color in her cheeks.

“It may be vain and wrong to say it, but – I’m afraid – Laurie is getting too fond of me.”

“Then you don’t care for him in the way it is evident he begins to care for you?” and Mrs. March looked anxious as she put the question.

“Mercy, no! I love the dear boy, as I always have, and am immensely proud of him, but as for anything more, it’s out of the question.”

“I’m glad of that, Jo.”

“Why, please?”

“Because, dear, I don’t think you suited to one another. As friends you are very happy. But I fear you will both rebel if you are married. You are too much alike and too fond of freedom, not to mention hot tempers and strong wills, to get on happily together.”

“That’s just the feeling I had, though I couldn’t express it. It would trouble me sadly to make him unhappy.”

“You are sure of his feeling for you?”

The color deepened in Jo’s cheeks.

“I’m afraid it is so, Mother. He hasn’t said anything, but he looks a great deal. I think I must go away before it comes to anything.”

“I agree with you, and if it can be managed you shall go.”

The plan was talked over in a family council and agreed upon, for Mrs. Kirke gladly accepted Jo, and promised to make a pleasant home for her. Jo was surprised that Laurie took it very quietly and made her preparations with a lightened heart.

“One thing I leave in your especial care,” she said to Beth, the night before she left.

“You mean your papers?” asked Beth.

“No, my boy. Be very good to him, won’t you?”

“Of course I will, but I can’t fill your place, and he’ll miss you sadly.”

“It won’t hurt him, so remember, I leave him in your charge, to plague, pet, and keep in order.”

“I’ll do my best, for your sake,” promised Beth, wondering why Jo looked at her so queerly.

When Laurie said good-bye, he whispered significantly,

“It’s useless, Jo. I watch you, so think what you do, or I’ll come and bring you home.”

Jo’s Journal

New York, November

Dear Mummy and Beth,

I’m going to write you a volume. I have may things to tell.

Mrs. Kirke welcomed me so kindly I felt at home at once, even in that big house full of strangers. She gave me a funny little parlor – all she had, but there is a stove in it, and a nice table in a sunny window. I can sit here and write whenever I like.

“Now, my dear, make yourself at home,” said Mrs. K., “There are some pleasant people in the house if you feel sociable, and your evenings are always free. Come to me if anything goes wrong, and be as happy as you can.”

As I went downstairs soon after, I saw something I liked. The flights[27 - flights – лестничные пролёты] are very long in this tall house. As I stood waiting at the head of the third one for a little servant girl to show up, I saw a gentleman come along behind her, take the heavy coal out of her hand, carry it all the way up, put it down at a door nearby, and walk away, saying, with a kind nod and a foreign accent,

“It goes better so. The little back is too young to such heaviness.”

Wasn’t it good of him? I like such things, for as Father says, trifles show character. When I mentioned it to Mrs. K., that evening, she laughed, and said,

“That must have been Professor Bhaer, he always does things of that sort.”

Mrs. K. told me he was from Berlin, very learned and good, but poor as a church mouse, and gives lessons to support himself and two little orphan nephews whom he is educating here, according to the wishes of his sister, who married an American. I mean to peep at him, and then I’ll tell you how he looks. He’s almost forty, so it’s no harm, mummy.

I shall keep a journal-letter, and send it once a week, so goodnight, and more tomorrow.

Tuesday

The children were very noisy and I really thought to shake them. Some good angel inspired me to try gymnastics, and soon they were glad to sit down and keep still. After luncheon, the servant took them out for a walk, and I went to my needlework.

Suddenly the parlor door opened and shut, and someone began to hum, “Kennst Du Das Land[28 - Kennst Du Das Land – «Ты знаешь ли край» (песня из романа Гёте «Годы учения Вильхельма Мейнстера»)]”, like a big bumblebee. It was dreadfully improper, I know, but I couldn’t resist the temptation, and lifted one end of the curtain before the glass door, and peeped in.

Professor Bhaer was there, and while he arranged his books, I took a good look at him. A regular German-rather stout, with brown hair all over his head, a bushy beard, good nose, the kindest eyes I ever saw, and a splendid big voice. His clothes were rusty, his hands were large, and he had beautiful teeth. He looked like a gentleman, though two buttons were off his coat and there was a patch on one shoe. He went to the window to turn the hyacinth bulbs toward the sun, and stroke the cat, who received him like an old friend. Then he smiled, and when a tap came at the door, said in a loud, brisk tone,